


Black Magic Women

by bluebeholder



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bechdel Test Pass, F/F, Season/Series 12 Speculation, how did this happen?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-08-17 02:08:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8126350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebeholder/pseuds/bluebeholder
Summary: In the midst of trying to discover her place in the modern world, Mary meets Rowena. She's not sure this counts as love at first sight, but whatever it is, she certainly likes it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I appear to be the first user to have ever written something in this pairing? Well, let me just say this: I didn't see this coming at all. Literally. But here it is, Season 12 speculation and all. I've got to note that I'm not entirely sure where this is going. It will be at least two chapters, but Rowena just won't quit whispering ideas into my ear. So we'll see.
> 
> The rating may go up after my betas get their hands on it and yell at me about how I don't understand the rating system at all and I just accidentally wrote a fic that should be "explicit". Either way, it's the next chapter that earns the rating.

“Dearie, are you all right? Have the boys been taking care of you?” the tiny woman asked, lovely eyes enormous with overblown concern. She folded her hands, the picture of innocence standing on the creaky staircase. Her Scottish brogue was impressively thick, considering that they were standing in a farmhouse somewhere in the middle of Idaho. “I’ve been so terribly worried about you since I heard from Fergus that you’d returned.”

Mary tried not to look befuddled. She shot a look at Dean, who was just rolling his eyes and tucking his gun back into his waistband. “Rowena,” he said, by way of explanation.

“The…witch?” Mary asked, trying to make sense of it. She’d appeared in a dramatic shower of sparks and flashing lights, wearing a bright blue gown far better suited for a prom night than a place like this. She was too beautiful for this abandoned ghost house.

“Unfortunately,” Castiel said. He folded his arms and glared. “What are you doing here, Rowena?”

The witch smiled and rested elegantly against the splintery banister. “I’m here to check up on you, just as I said. The rumors are circulating, my dears. Little Sammy’s gone missing…I wanted to help.”

“We don’t need you,” Dean said brusquely. He turned and stalked off, boots clomping on the wood floor. “There’s no lead here. Crowley was wrong. Let’s go.”

Castiel took Mary’s elbow. “He’s right. We should go,” he said.

Mary studied Rowena, who looked only mildly put out by Dean’s dismissal. In fact, she looked…satisfied, like a pleased cat. Mary would bet money on the fact that this was all a setup, that this had been someone’s plan from the start. “You’re the lead,” she said. “You can help us find Sam.”

Rowena smiled, bright as a knife. “Oh, you are a clever one, aren’t you,” she said. 

As it turned out, Rowena had been in contact with Crowley and thought she could help them track down Sam. Apparently her tracking spell required them to “start from square one,” which mean that she had to go back to the Bunker with them. They lost a full day on the drive, which was obnoxiously long, especially with a cranky Dean and an increasingly-irritable Castiel. Mary was thankful that she got relegated to the backseat, leaving them to stare out the front window in an emotionally-constipated silence. She thought that, when they had Sam back and all this was over, she’d really like to sit the boys down and make them talk through whatever was going on with them. 

Anyway, there Mary was in the backseat with an ancient, gorgeous Scottish witch whose son was the King of Hell. She took it in stride: it was no more bizarre than seeing her adult son, finding out that angels were real, discovering the Internet, or any of the other things she’d had to adjust to this last week. 

“Is it good to be back?” Rowena asked, under the cover of a tape that Dean put on after an hour of virtually total silence. (The tape was of Santana’s album _Abraxas_ , which was wonderfully familiar.)

“I think so,” Mary said. She’d already decided to treat the witch with caution, but the little woman had a disarming air about her. And, besides, she’d help save the world and now she was going to help them find Sam. Some honesty wouldn’t be a bad thing. “It’s…weird, you know?”

Rowena laughed. “Oh, yes. I’ve lived three centuries, dearie. Things come and go, but of late they seem to come more than they go.” She rolled her eyes expressively at Castiel, who was holding Dean’s phone, busily texting someone.

Mary cracked a smile. “The Internet’s pretty choice, though,” she said. 

“I don’t make much use of it,” Rowena sniffed. 

“I haven’t had the chance to use it much yet.” Mary shrugged. She thought of Sam with a little pang. “Maybe when things settle down.”

Sympathetically, Rowena reached across the seat and patted Mary’s hand. “It will be all right.”

“With you helping us, hopefully we can solve this much more quickly,” Mary said. She looked back out the window, at the grass sliding past on the edge of the road and the endless fields of farm country. There was a pregnant pause, as if Rowena were going to say something else, but she didn’t. 

“Don't turn your back on me, baby,” Carlos Santana sang. “Don't turn your back on me…”

***

Dean pulled into a motel parking lot at nine P.M. “Got to get some rest,” he said gruffly, swinging himself out of the car and heading for the dim little office with the VACANCY sign blinking in the window.

“We’ll be back at the Bunker by eight tomorrow morning,” Mary reassured Castiel, who looked rather concerned. “I doubt Dean wants to pull an all-nighter.”

“Ah, all of us will be fresher and happier,” Rowena said, stepping out of the car and smoothing down her hair. “I do hate casting spells when I’m sleepy.”

Castiel opened the trunk and pulled out the two duffel bags, handing Mary’s to her. He took her hand in the process, holding her back from moving to join Rowena. “Be careful around her,” he said, looking at the witch. “She’s dangerous, Mary. I can’t overestimate—”

“Hey, you’ve seen me fight,” Mary said. She squeezed Castiel’s hand and smiled. “I think I can handle myself.”

“You’re probably right,” Castiel said, but he looked distinctly frustrated. 

Dean came back just then, two keys in hand. “One for me and Cas, one for you and Rowena,” he said, tossing the keys underhanded.

Mary caught them easily. “Thank you, Dean,” she said, and—admittedly with a bit of hesitancy—stretched up on her tiptoes to peck him on the cheek. “See you in the morning.”

“Night, Mom,” he said. He had that stunned expression on again, the one he wore every time Mary did something that reminded him that she really was his mother. It made her heart ache.

She was a little surprised, when she turned around, to see that Rowena looked strangely unhappy. But the look only lasted a moment. Rowena tossed her hair and smiled. “Shall we?”

Their room was on the second floor, and ascending the steps felt really awkward. This was the first time in about a week that Mary hadn’t really been by Dean’s side, and that felt pretty unsafe. Instead, she was with Rowena, who she barely knew. And beside the graceful, beautiful woman in her incredible gown, Mary felt clunky and out of place. She fumbled the key in the lock at least three times before she got the door open. She held the door for Rowena.

“Thank you,” Rowena said, sweeping inside. Now it was her turn to look out of place in the middle of the motel room. “Which bed do you prefer?”

“Near the window,” Mary said immediately. She dropped her duffel bag on it as she kicked the door shut, claiming it. “Hope you don’t mind.”

Rowena lowered herself to sit on the bed, which was printed in a pattern that looked dull next to her glitter. “Of course not,” she said. She stretched, arching her back, slender hands twisting like a dancer’s. “I don’t want to impose on you, but do you have something I could wear to bed? I didn’t exactly bring my luggage.”

“No imposition,” Mary said, and unzipped her duffel bag. She didn’t have much in the way of clothes. Some Wal-Mart underwear, a couple pairs of thrift store jeans, some hand-me-down flannels, some shirts and a single pair of sweatpants…and that damn nightgown she’d come back in. It was lacy and loose and looked exactly like Rowena. “Mind wearing this?”

“It’s lovely,” Rowena said. She took the nightgown from Mary and smiled, pressing a soft hand to Mary’s cheek. “You’re very generous.”

Mary just stared as Rowena swanned off to the bathroom.

By the time that Rowena came back out, Mary had changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt. She had two toothbrushes and a tube of toothpaste in her hand, and when she saw Rowena step out of the narrow bathroom door she just about dropped both. 

Mary had always kept it quiet, how she felt about women. Because she liked men too. She’d loved John. She thought he was the handsomest man to have ever walked the earth. She’d had other boyfriends too. But Mary used to really like looking at Pat Benatar and Grace Slick and Stevie Nicks. Maybe she’d never done anything about all that, but she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t had thoughts. And now here was Rowena, in that half-transparent nightgown, red hair tumbling over her shoulders and glowing like fire in the awful incandescent light of the bedside lamps. She was impossibly, unbelievably, beautiful.

Judging by the expression on Rowena’s face, she could practically hear every thought going through Mary’s head. 

“Is one of those for me?” she asked mercifully, looking at the toothbrushes.

“Yeah,” Mary said. “Yes. They only had two-packs so I…never mind. Here.”

Rowena stepped out of the way. “You first, my darling,” she said, taking a toothbrush from Mary as she stepped past to the bathroom.

Mary just about turned on a cold shower and shoved her head under it. She was getting stupid. It was getting on to ten o’clock at night, she had barely slept in a week, she’d just come back from the dead, one of her sons was missing, and she was sharing a room with a deadly witch she barely knew. This was not the time. She brushed her teeth until her mouth hurt, washed her face in cold water, and walked back out resolute in her decision not to do anything.

That fell apart the minute that she saw Rowena reclining on the bed, looking for all the world like a woman in a Renaissance painting or Kate Bush on that Hounds of Love album cover. Mary’s face went hot and she felt her heartbeat speed up. “I’m out,” she said unnecessarily. Rowena smiled again and glided into the bathroom. 

Mary collapsed on her bed and crawled under the covers. 

This had to be some stupid reaction to Rowena being the third person Mary talked to for more than five minutes since coming back to life. It had to be. She wasn’t doing this now. Okay, scratch that: she was not doing this ever. There were bigger things to worry about than this. She turned off her bedside lamp and rolled over, back to the bathroom and face to the window, hand on the gun under her pillow. 

Rowena turned off the bathroom light when she emerged. “Already asleep?” she said.

“Not quite,” Mary replied, staring at the witch’s supple shadow sliding on the wall. 

There was the creak of bedsprings as Rowena eased herself onto the other bed. “I meant what I asked you this morning,” she said. 

Mary furrowed her brow. “What did you ask?”

“Are you all right?”

…well, that sounded like genuine concern. Mary heaved herself over, body almost refusing to move. She was too tired for any of this. Rowena perched on the edge of the bed, chin on her hands, watching Mary. “Since you asked, no,” Mary said. She rubbed her eyes. “I died, I came back from the dead, I haven’t even seen my sons since they were babies, one of them is missing, I found out that angels are real, the Internet exists now, Donald Trump is running for president, and I still haven’t had my goddamn thirtieth birthday.”

“What a miserable week,” Rowena said softly. “I’m very sorry, Mary.”

“It’s not your fault,” Mary said. 

Rowena shrugged. “Misfortune breeds sympathy, dear. Is there anything I can do?”

Mary’s breath hitched for a second. The answer to that question was yes. She kept looking back at the curve of Rowena’s legs, her slender hips, the place where the nightgown’s neckline veered dangerously low. But she didn’t say anything.

The witch smiled. “Ah,” she said, and slid off the side of the bed to kneel bare inches away. She rested her arms on the bed, pulling Mary down as the mattress tilted. “I understand.”

“I didn’t—” Mary started. 

Rowena pressed a finger to Mary’s lips. “I’d like very much to do whatever you’re thinking,” she murmured. “But not quite yet, I think. Not in a place as tawdry as this, and certainly not before we’ve found poor lost Samuel.”

Mary caught Rowena’s hand as the other woman moved to stand. “You don’t even know what I was going to say,” she challenged.

“Of course I do,” Rowena purred. She leaned in close and pressed her lips to Mary’s, thin and soft and sweet. Mary’s eyes slid shut. The angle was all wrong, but the pressure was wonderful. For a moment, the kiss was dry, but then Rowena’s tongue brushed gently across Mary’s bottom lip. It felt like an electric shock and Mary flinched. At that, Rowena pulled away. 

Mary’s mouth felt like it was burning. It had been a long time since she’d kissed anybody. She and John hadn’t been on the best of terms just before the fire, and they hadn’t done much together for some time. This was…magic. 

“When we find your son,” Rowena said, hand again cupping Mary’s cheek, “when you’re a little more settled in, we’ll talk again.”

“Once we find Sam,” Mary said. She let go of Rowena’s hand. “I’ll hold you to it.”

Rowena laughed, falling back onto her bed. “I’d expect nothing less from a Winchester.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to Nicole and passmesomepie, whose comments kickstarted me into writing and finishing this chapter. This fic remains the only one in the tag, so for those of you in it for the rarepair…have fun.
> 
> Also, this is the chapter that earns the rating. _I hope you’re happy_.

It had been three months since Amara brought Mary back from the dead. In that time, they’d gotten Sam back from the British Men of Letters, had two successful ghost hunts, chased down a vampire nest, and had a run-in with a particularly toothy kelpie. Now Sam, Dean, and Castiel were insisting that Mary take some time off to get on her feet. She “needed a break”, apparently. 

“Go shopping,” Dean suggested. “Retail therapy, right?” Mary was still mostly wearing the boys’ castoffs, out of necessity if nothing else. If she had to guess, Dean was getting sick of finding his shirts in her closet. She took it under advisement, and also took out a new credit card.

“Read the news?” Sam said. He’d gotten her a laptop of her own, and she was pretty much addicted to Reddit and Twitter. Mary didn’t tell Sam about the eight news apps she had already installed on her phone.

“Reconnect with an old hobby,” Castiel said. Mary didn’t quite have the heart to tell him that, before she’d died, she’d been a full-time housewife and mother with very little in the way of personal hobbies. She just smiled and gave him a hug. 

Now she was alone in the bunker, which was big and echoey and frankly very lonely. The boys had gone off on a hunt, leaving her to cool her heels and “relax”. Mary prowled around for a day and a half before she came to a decision. It had been a month and a half since she’d seen Rowena. 

On their parting—by which time they’d still done nothing at all—Rowena had given Mary a phone number. “Just in case, my darling,” she’d said, typing her name into Mary’s phone and putting a heart after it. “Call me any time.”

Well, it was any time. Mary sat down at the kitchen table and hit the call button. She held the phone tight to her ear. It rang three times before Rowena picked up.

“Hello, Mary,” the witch said.

“Hey,” Mary managed after a second. She hadn’t really expected Rowena to answer. “You said to call you any time.”

Rowena laughed, low and rich. “I did, didn’t I? Well, far be it from me to break a promise. What do you need, my darling?”

“They left me alone while they left on a hunt,” Mary admitted. “I…I’m a little lonely, I guess.”

“Idiot boys,” Rowena muttered in exasperation. “They think you’re a doll, to be left in a glass case while they do the dirty work!”

Mary traced a pattern on the kitchen table. “Maybe,” she said.

“So you’re all alone in that great bunker, with no one to talk to and nothing to do,” Rowena said after a brief pause. 

“I thought,” Mary started. She stopped, gathered her courage, and said, “I thought we might have that talk you promised me.”

It was as if Rowena were standing in front of Mary. She could almost see the witch’s razor smile as she said, “You don’t forget anything, do you?”

“You know where the bunker is,” Mary said. She was tired of games, tired of feeling out of place, tired of feeling like her life was in someone else’s hands. This was a stupid decision, sure, but at least it was her decision. 

“I’ll come for you.” Rowena’s voice slipped out of the speaker and tangled itself through all of Mary’s thoughts. She shivered, shifting in the chair and squeezing her legs together. She was suddenly very glad that none of the boys were here. “It won’t take long. I’ll knock three times.”

Mary was waiting by the door when the signal came. She had to stop herself from just jumping up and yanking the door open. She waited a moment, then opened the door as sedately as she could. Rowena was waiting on the other side, wearing a magnificent black dress that made her look like she wasn’t wearing anything at all. “Hey,” Mary said when her superego reasserted itself. “Come on in.”

“I do like this place,” Rowena commented as she descended into the main room. “Quite the lair, if you’re so inclined.”

“It still doesn’t quite feel like home,” Mary admitted, following Rowena into the library. 

“I’m not surprised! It still smells like only men live here!” Rowena fanned a hand comically in front of her face, wrinkling her nose.

Mary laughed. “They do shower sometimes,” she said. “But only under duress.”

Rowena sat gracefully in a chair by the long library table. She rested her chin on her hand, studying Mary. “So you wanted to…talk,” she said.

“Yes,” Mary said. She sat down opposite the witch, planting her feet firmly even though she was sitting down. “I did.”

“Haven’t changed your mind a bit, have you,” Rowena said. She shook her head and breathed a heavy sigh. “My darling, you do know what you’re doing, don’t you?”

“I do,” Mary said steadily. “I’ve thought about it a lot.”

Rowena’s lips curled in a slight smile. “Have you now,” she murmured. “I do think you’re quite pretty…and I won’t say no to the willing. But have you thought about the boys?”

Mary looked around, shrugged, and looked back at Rowena. “They’re not here now, are they?”

“Oh, very funny.” Rowena sat back in the chair, folding her arms. “I only have one question.”

“What?” Mary asked. Her heart was jolting unsteadily, thrown off-kilter by the insanity of what she was doing right now.

Rowena’s eyes glittered in the library lamplight. “Why?”

“Huh?”

“Why do you want this?” Rowena clarified. 

Mary looked down at her hands, staring at her white knuckles. “In my head,” she said, “everything that happened to me…only happened about three months ago. I’m still twenty-nine. I’m younger than both my sons now. I don’t know anything about the world now. I…don’t know who I am. What I am. I just know that I want this. I…want you.”

There was a slight creak and the sound of fabric rustling and shifting. Mary looked up and jumped when she found herself eye to eye with Rowena. The witch was on her hands and knees on the table, dress draped across the books she hadn’t bothered to move out of the way. “Say that,” Rowena said in a husky voice, “again.”

“I want you,” Mary whispered, staring into the witch’s eyes.

“Good,” Rowena said. 

She reached up with one delicate hand to touch Mary’s chin with her fingertips, ever so gently drawing Mary forward. Mary followed willingly, reaching up only to catch herself on the edge of the table as she slid to the edge of her seat. They kissed with their eyes wide open, staring at each other through the slow, hot press of their lips. Mary dared to flick her tongue out and taste Rowena properly. Rowena laughed into Mary’s mouth and returned the gesture.

After a moment, Mary leaned back, wiping her chin dry with the back of her hand. She had to take a second—her hands were tingling from crushing against the edge of the table and she’d forgotten at some point to breathe. She was already practically panting. 

Rowena’s eyes sparkled as she sank back, kneeling on the table. “Voracious, aren’t you?” 

“It’s been a while,” Mary said. She did her best to steady her breathing, pushed her hair behind her ears, tried to blink away the vision of Rowena in front of her. But Rowena was there, real, alive. “I…”

“I know, dear,” Rowena said gently. She swung herself down off the table gracefully and stood beside Mary, looking down at her with something that almost resembled tenderness. “Is there somewhere else we can go that is a little more private?”

Mary scrambled to her feet, almost knocking over the chair as she went. “My room,” she said. 

Rowena took her hand. “Lead on,” she said. 

It was hard not to just drag Rowena down the hall, but Mary managed it. She almost kicked the door open, pulling Rowena inside, then turned around to shut and lock the door just in case the boys suddenly arrived home. 

There was the sound of fabric falling to the floor, and Mary turned around. She froze, pressed flat against the door, eyes wide, staring at Rowena.

The witch stepped delicately out of the puddle of dress which had slipped right off her body. She was completely naked, showing off her small breasts and shapely legs. She smiled at Mary and gestured at her. “Do take off your clothes,” she said. “We can’t do much if you’re wearing all those layers.”

“You…weren’t wearing anything under your dress,” Mary said stupidly. She thought about smacking herself in the face. What kind of statement was that?

Rowena laughed gaily. “Ah, well, it tends to get in the way,” she said. She reclined on Mary’s bed, pulling pins out of her upswept hair and letting it fall free over the pillows. 

Mary dropped her button-up on a chair and, not without trepidation, pulled her shirt over her head. She threw it aside without looking at Rowena, and worked her way out of her jeans with a minimum of fussing. For a moment, she thought about taking off her bra and panties, but a pang of anxiety kept them on. No, she wasn’t going to strip all the way just yet.

“My,” Rowena purred as Mary turned back to face her, “you’re a lovely lady.”

“Thank you,” Mary said. She reached up and fumbled with the elastic holding her hair in a ponytail, shaking out her hair and feeling it brush against her back. 

Rowena lifted a hand and beckoned, crooking one finger just a little. “Now…are we going to have our little talk or not?”

Mary tried not to trip over the dress as she went to the bed and sat down on the edge. Rowena sat up and reached forward, hand smoothing over Mary’s shoulder. “Let me help you with this,” she said, plucking lightly at the bra strap.

“All right,” Mary said, and turned her back so that Rowena could reach the clasp. A moment later, she felt the band relax, and Rowena sliding the straps down her arms. There was a moment of confusion while Mary’s arms got tangled up in the straps, and then it was free. 

Rowena’s arms slipped around Mary from behind, pinning her arms at her sides as her hands came up to caress Mary’s breasts. Her fingernails scraped gently over the sensitive skin and Mary shivered. Her breath was warm on Mary’s neck. “Lovely,” she repeated, kissing the back of Mary’s neck. 

“…what do you want me to do?” Mary asked. She shifted, not sure what to do with her hands.

“Enjoy yourself,” Rowena said. Her hands drifted lower, skimming over Mary’s stomach and down to where she could lightly run her fingers around the panties’ waistband. 

Mary turned to face Rowena, pulling one leg up underneath her. Now was the moment for decisive action. She sank her hands into that long, thick hair and kissed Rowena hard, before either of them had a chance to breathe. The kiss was airless, full of teeth and tongue, and Mary liked it. She let go after a moment, but now her heart was pounding in her ears and she could feel herself getting wet.

Rowena’s smile was sly. “Good,” she said, and pushed Mary backwards suddenly. Mary didn’t expect it and toppled backwards. She narrowly missed cracking her head on the railing at the foot of the bed. She hit the mattress flat on her back with Rowena astride her, one leg stretched out and the other still bent beneath her, hands still in Rowena’s hair. 

“You’re gorgeous,” Mary said suddenly, without thinking about it. She shook her hands free of the witch’s hair and dared to run them down Rowena’s sides, stroking the curve of her hips.

“Mmm,” Rowena hummed. She rocked from side to side, just a little, the weight of her barely anything at all, but the friction made heat burn low in Mary’s stomach. Mary shuddered, shifting slightly, looking for more. Rowena laughed lightly. “Anxious, are you?”

Mary tightened her hold on Rowena’s hips, pulling her down so that their bodies were flush and Rowena was grinding against Mary properly. “Yes,” Mary said, aware that she was breathing hard already, shifting in place with desire, trying to find friction that Rowena wouldn’t give.

Rowena leaned forward, eyeing Mary with a wicked gleam in her eyes. “Don’t be so eager,” she chided. “There’s much left to do.” And she bent her head and nipped lightly at the tip of Mary’s breast. 

Mary yelped quietly, flinching, and immediately Rowena leaned back. “Is that—”

“You’re fine, you’re fine,” Mary said breathlessly, “I just didn’t expect it.”

“Are you sure?” Rowena asked. 

Was it even a question? “Do it again,” Mary said.

“With pleasure,” Rowena said. She slid down again, slow, sensuous, and Mary was pretty sure that she was enjoying being a tease. Her long hair brushed against Mary’s ribs, and where normally it would have tickled it just felt good. And then Rowena’s mouth closed around the nipple, sucking and nibbling, and one of her hands was playing with Mary’s other breast, and damn—

This was the best decision Mary had ever made.

The unfortunate truth of sex, though, was that things were uncomfortable sometimes just when they weren’t supposed to be. Mary was just getting really excited about how good it felt, Rowena’s teeth sending little electric shocks through her whole body, when she realized that she couldn’t feel the leg that was bent underneath her. 

“Hold on,” Mary said, “I don’t want to make this awkward, but…my leg’s asleep.”

Rowena laughed, a merry sound that got an answering smile out of Mary. She slid off and sat next to Mary, giving her space to untangle herself. The hunter sat up and stretched out her leg, groaning in the least sexy way possible as she tried to get feeling back into her toes. Rowena helped a little, rubbing at Mary’s calf until the pins and needles started to go away. 

“Thanks,” Mary said. 

“Ready to go on?” Rowena asked, arching her eyebrows.

Mary glanced down at herself. There were a few small, red bite marks on her breasts, and the sight of those was enough to make her shiver with renewed arousal. "Yeah,” she said, “let’s go.”

Rowena moved back in, pressing her body against Mary’s. All that contact made Mary’s head spin. Rowena’s skin was warm and smooth. For a fleeting second Mary wondered how the hell she did it, how she didn’t have stretch marks like the ones that streaked Mary’s hips and thighs and stomach, how she didn’t have a single wrinkle or scar, and then Rowena whispered a word in some long-dead language and Mary thought magic while the lights flickered out and stars spun around their bodies. 

“Oh my God,” Mary whispered, staring at the motes of golden light. 

“Not quite,” Rowena said. “The magic’s all mine. Witchcraft like this isn’t something the Lord likes to see, if the Good Book is to be believed.”

Mary looked at her, at the planes of her delicate face, too young for those old, old eyes. She felt a little cold when she thought that Rowena had seen witch burnings, had perhaps fled such a burning herself. Rowena was so old, and she was here now, with Mary. They were women out of time, both of them, out of time and so out of place. 

“Shhh,” Rowena said, pressing her finger to Mary’s lips.

“I didn’t say anything,” Mary protested.

Rowena blinked slowly, like a cat. “Your face is speaking for you…I’d like to see what else it can say,” she said. And then she slid down, kissing a line down Mary’s sternum and over her stomach, looking up at her with a smoldering smile. “How long has it been since you touched yourself?”

“I…” Mary faltered. She swallowed hard. “It’s been a long time.”

“Let me help you with that,” Rowena said. Mary nodded, wanting so badly that she didn’t know how to express it in words. Still looking up at Mary, Rowena slipped her fingers around the elastic of Mary’s underwear, pulling it aside, and slipped a finger into Mary. 

Mary was no stranger to her own body. But no one had ever touched her quite like this and it was the most infuriating and arousing thing she’d ever experienced. Rowena moved slow, tantalizing, that single finger pressing and stroking in all the right places. Mary arched up into it, knotting her hands in the blanket, spreading her legs wider, silently pleading for more. She’d never been vocal and still wasn’t, and with what was left of conscious thought hoped that Rowena understood what she wanted. 

She could feel how wet she was, how swollen with want, and it felt so good. Mary hadn’t felt like this in so damn long. Her breathing was harsh, stuttering with every turn and teasing twist of Rowena’s fingers. She closed her eyes, feeling the curl of tension in her belly. “Harder,” she said, because she didn’t know how to ask for anything more.

“You’re so desperate,” Rowena said, but it wasn’t derisive. It was wondering, and aroused, and at her words Mary realized that she really was desperate, desperate for more touch and more sensation. She wanted. “And so lovely like this.”

A second finger slid slowly into Mary, stretching her open slowly, and Mary gasped quietly, bucking into the sensation. She opened her eyes and saw Rowena’s face again, illuminated in the tiny motes of golden starlight. Her pupils were blown wide, and she was breathing as hard as Mary. And her hand was in between her legs, working in the same rhythm with which she worked Mary. 

Mary sat up, leaning forward, and at the shift in angle of Rowena’s fingers she finally made a sound. It was a tiny sound in her throat that she’d never heard herself make before, the sound of desperation. She reached out, tangling her hands again in Rowena’s beautiful hair, and dragged the witch close to kiss her. 

Rowena whined into Mary’s mouth and began to move in earnest, writhing against Mary, never breaking the contact of the kiss. Her fingers were deep in Mary, pressing against all of the most sensitive spots, and Mary felt herself tipping over the edge. She shuddered as every muscle in her body tightened and her mind went completely blank, the only feeling Rowena’s fingers still twisting inside her. 

And then, as if Mary’s climax were a signal Rowena threw her head back, stiffening in Mary’s arms, fingers going still, moaning. The motes of light flickered. Mary clung to Rowena through the brief aftershocks, breath still ragged, matched by Rowena’s. It was the first time that Mary had seen the witch like this, and she wanted to see it again. 

“You’re beautiful,” Mary said, when she trusted herself to speak again. 

Rowena sat back, and very slowly licked the fingers that only moments before had been buried inside Mary. She closed her eyes, smiling. “So are you,” she said. “I have an offer for you.”

Instantly, even though she was still dazed, Mary was on her guard. “What is it?” she asked.

Without opening her eyes, Rowena said, “I want you to join my coven.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BOOM. PLOT INCOMING.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's that? An update that didn't take almost six months? My writing brain must be on a ROLL, what BLASPHEMY. 
> 
> It's because this isn't a goddamn sex chapter that's why. -.- I am so bad at writing smut you guys you don't even know my beta reader just yells at me for like an hour every time she has to read one of my chapters. (Well. Except the one that reads like a goddamn slam poetry piece. If you want to read that one, stick around until Chapter 49 of A Better Mirror. I don't think the audience for this fic has much overlap with ABM, so does this count as a spoiler?)
> 
> Anyway. You know how back when I was posting Task Force Winchester, I said that I was never going to write an epic that deals with Mary’s story as it deserves to be told? Yeah, well, we all know how my writing resolutions turn out. I've been too pissed off about Mary's arc in the last few episodes _and it shows_.
> 
> Watch out: plot incoming.

“What?” Mary asked, not sure she’d heard Rowena right.

“I want you to join my coven,” Rowena repeated. 

Mary shook her head. “I can’t,” she said. 

Rowena opened her eyes. “Why not?”

“I just—” Mary started, then shook her head. “I just can’t, all right?”

“Tell me why,” Rowena said. 

For a moment, Mary thought about it. “I can’t just leave the boys,” she said. “They…they need me here. There’s so much to do—we have to deal with the British Men of Letters, there are so many monsters, the angels…”

“And they couldn’t do that without you?” Rowena asked, raising her eyebrows. 

“I…” Mary was lost for words. She’d never been good at verbal dueling like this, and she felt slow and stupid by comparison to Rowena.

Rowena began to braid her hair, red ribbons sliding between her fingers like silk. “It’s not that they need you,” she said, “it’s that they want you.”

“That’s the same thing.” Mary folded her arms, drawing back from the witch. 

“It’s all the difference in the world,” Rowena said. “And can you see that it’s not even truly you that they want?” 

Mary sputtered in protest. “I’m their mother!”

“And I was a mother too,” Rowena pointed out. “I know about these things. Children, especially the grown ones, don’t want you. They want an idol, a perfect mother who’ll pick them up and kiss their bruises and never want a damn thing for herself.”

There were centuries of bitterness in that statement. Mary didn’t care, or at least that’s what she told herself. “Sam and Dean care about me,” she said levelly.

Rowena rolled her eyes. “They care about a mother they forgot years ago,” she said. “John Winchester made you into an idol for those boys. You were a memory, darling, and something to reassure them that somebody loved them once upon a time.”

“I’m here now,” Mary snapped. She didn’t like the ring of truth to that statement—she’d read John’s journal, Sam gave it to her after she came back—but she wasn’t going to confront it today, if ever. 

“They don’t see that,” Rowena said.

Mary was silent. She wasn’t going to dignify that with a response. 

After a moment, in which the motes of golden light began to fade, Rowena asked, “If they see you for who you really are, then why did they leave you behind?”

“I…I don’t know,” Mary admitted. 

Rowena reached across the bed and took Mary’s hand. “They don’t see you,” she said softly. “All they see is a plaster saint, who intercedes on their behalf with God and His angels. You’re not allowed to be who you are, as long as Sam and Dean have their say.”

“That’s not true,” Mary said, but she said it without conviction.

“They prayed to you at night when they were boys.” Rowena went on, relentless. Her hand was warm and tight around Mary’s, grounding and comforting even as her words hit Mary like bullets. “Hail Mary, full of grace—perhaps not in those words, but I find that the sentiment is the same. You were held up as a martyr because your husband didn’t know how to mourn you, and all your boys know of a mother is what he taught them. If you are anything less than the perfect thing he made you, then you can’t be their mother. So they won’t let you be anything but perfect.”

Mary started to speak, but all that came out was a small, defeated sob.

“It’s a hard truth, but someone has to speak it,” Rowena said. She leaned in and gently turned Mary’s head so that they were looking at each other again. “That’s why I want you to join me. I see you as you truly are, Mary Winchester. A woman who is desperate for life, now that she has another chance. A woman who doesn’t deserve to rot away underground while men who aren’t really her sons play hero.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mary whispered. She was pretty sure, though, that Rowena did know what she was talking about. Every word rang true. Wasn’t everything Rowena was saying why she’d done something so reckless as sleep with a witch in the first place? Because she was lost and desperate and scared and had nowhere to turn?

Rowena smiled. “I think I do,” she said. 

Mary didn’t nod, but she didn’t protest either. 

“I think you could be a powerful witch,” Rowena said, just when the silence between them became too heavy to bear. “You’re a Winchester, and if there’s one thing I’ve seen of your family it’s that you’re all so filled with determination that nothing ever stops you. And that’s what all good witchcraft is. Determination.”

“I don’t want that,” Mary said. She was shaking, shivering with a fear she couldn’t name. “I don’t want to be a witch.”

Rowena tilted her head. “What do you want, Mary?”

There were tears, Mary realized, running down her face. And her nose was starting to drip. “I don’t know,” she said, choking on the words. “I don’t know. I—”

“Shh,” Rowena said, and pulled Mary close. “Shhh. It’s all right, dear. Let it out.” She stroked Mary’s hair as Mary pressed her face into the witch’s shoulder and cried. 

She hadn’t cried, not in the whole time since she’d been back, because there was so much else to worry about and what right did she have to cry anyway? She was back from the dead, and wasn’t that what everyone wanted? She had a family again, shouldn’t she be happy? And the boys were so strong and never broke down like this, no matter what happened, no matter how much they hurt. 

“You didn’t ask for this,” Rowena said gently, and Mary realized with a start that she’d been speaking all of that out loud. “You didn’t ask to be brought back from the dead by some divine bitch who had no more respect for you than she did for the rest of the world. Of course you’re upset. You have every right to be.”

“I don’t,” Mary sobbed. 

Rowena stroked her back, soothing, kind motions that were somehow comforting. “This is why you should leave here,” she said. “You need time to understand and make peace with what’s happened.”

Mary sat back and rubbed her eyes. “I can’t go,” she said. “Where else can I go?”

“With me,” Rowena said simply. 

In the fading light of the golden stars, Mary looked at Rowena. The witch’s face was open, honest, sympathetic. It was hard not to believe her, in that moment. Maybe she would be better off, traveling with Rowena, learning from her, finding out who she wanted to be. And then again maybe not. Maybe she would be happier staying with Sam and Dean and Castiel, working out how to be a part of their family. She had been a mother once; she could be one again. And that was why Amara had brought her back, wasn’t it? To be their mother, because it was what Dean wanted most in the world. 

She closed her eyes and turned her face away. “I can’t,” she said.

Rowena’s soft hand cupped her cheek. “When you change your mind,” she said, “call for me.”

Mary didn’t answer.

They dressed in silence. Mary wanted to shower, wanted to get herself clean of sweat and arousal, but every time she turned her head she could smell the faint linger of Rowena’s perfume, and somehow she didn’t want to wash that off. She settled for a clean shirt and underwear, thrown on quick while Rowena critically put her hair back up, looking in Mary’s mirror. 

Mary followed Rowena down the hall and back into the library. The chairs were still askew and Mary banished thoughts of what had happened while she was sitting in one of those chairs because now was really, really not the time. She felt jumbled up inside, all her thoughts and feelings hurled around and mixed with magic and desire. Judging by the looks Rowena was giving her, the witch could tell. But she didn’t say anything. Neither of them did. 

From beside the map table, Mary watched as Rowena glided up the stairs looking for all the world like a woman on a stage. She was almost to the top when Mary said, “Wait.”

Rowena turned, one hand wrapped around the bannister. “Yes?” she asked, one brow raised. 

“I…” Mary felt like this was terrible, just making Rowena leave like this. “…is there anything…”

“Not now,” Rowena said, smiling faintly. “But someday, yes, I think so.”

Mary shook her head. She planted her hands on the map, one on Siberia and the other somewhere in the middle of Africa. Forced herself not to run up the stairs and demand that Rowena stay for just a while longer. “Okay,” she said. 

Rowena hesitated, just a little, when she reached the door. “Remember what I said. When you change your mind, call for me.”

And then she was gone, the door shutting behind her with a final, dull slam. 

Mary sank onto the chair by the map table, arms trembling too much to support her weight. She didn’t know where to go from here, or what to do, and when her phone finally buzzed with a message from Sam letting her know they’re on their way back she hadn’t moved an inch.


End file.
